Fiction | JOYLAND

Lydia Millet -

One of the birds was lame, struggling gamely along the perimeter of the fence. The bird was large, a soft color of blue, and...

Matthew Rader -

Brighton, where are you? Palmer. It had been etched into the back of the stall door with some kind of corrosive and then, in...

Sean Dixon -

Have you ever had that thing happen where you go to sleep in a bed and you’re asleep for awhile and then you wake...

Allison Carter -

from Ways For Going Or For Making Go In the morning an alarm sounded. Barely audible through the walls of the barn, it held at...

Zinzi Clemmons -

I am in the back seat of my uncle’s BMW in Constantia Kloof, a wealthy enclave in the hills to the west of Johannesburg....

Neal Giannone -

At the whim of weather I feel like Seattle. Without heroin I can feel the hours. I can feel every molecule of space when...

Lauren Collee -

The bus route began – for me, that is – in my neighbourhood, and then wound down past the mosque, through the leafy parts...